


the last place one expects to be

by Farrowe



Series: Modern Deathcest AU oneshots [3]
Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, Hate Sex, Modern Deathcest AU, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Teenage Dirtbag Deaths AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farrowe/pseuds/Farrowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cat finds a new toy it is not entirely willing to discard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the last place one expects to be

**Author's Note:**

> part of the teenage dirtbag deaths tumblr au. de dood is as portrayed in the production of elisabeth in antwerp, belgium in 2009.

They were a nice couple, that Touto, and her (his?) special friend, who somehow evoked curious memories of a particular hunting-lodge at Mayerling. Perhaps it was simply the waving part of his hair, or the hiss in her voice when he had found a tender spot in his rovings and seized upon it, chuckling to himself as the hiss became a whine — so like Mary, that little plaything of his who had scrabbled her way up and into the Crown Prince’s arms, while he held her in offering, smiling for him to see.

He had saved the Crown Prince for last. Her dying breath had been sweet on his lips, falling like honey from a warm comb; had left him haggard and hungering. And so he had turned to his prince, now echoed handsomely in some of the features of the other, yet not so delicate. It was not, after all, Rudolf.

A weight was on him presently: sometime in the night he had become a pillow for Touto, who slept restlessly facedown, tickling him with feathery fronds of hair no less pristine than when he (she?) had issued that ultimatum, teeth bared, but nevertheless beautiful. It was a pity: he liked to see where he had made his mark indelible, to see that he had left some sort of brand on the things which he had possessed. But that hair was perfectly combed, as though his nails had not torn that scalp apart hours before. Only the pale pink marks ringing that ivy scar, the deep welts on his own back, spoke of how Touto had, for once, surrendered.


End file.
